‘No problem,’ Randy said, laughing. ‘Do you also want me to send you surveillance footage from the dentist’s office? That door hit you in the mouth pretty hard.’
Jones flushed with embarrassment. ‘How do you know about that?’
‘Like I said, my system flags everything.’
33
The Swedish National Board of Forensic Medicine — known locally as the Rättsmedicinalverket — was a branch of law enforcement tasked with investigating the cause of death in cases of murder, fatal accidents and other ‘tragic events’. Six facilities scattered across the country handled the workload, but the main facility was located in Stockholm.
Dial marveled at the interior of the lobby as the group waited to meet the coroner. Everything was polished steel, clear glass and fluorescent light. Nothing in there was organic. No wood. No wallpaper. Nothing that could incubate germs or other contaminants. There was an antiseptic feel, to be sure, but the space was actually quite comforting.
It felt safe, as if nothing could harm him there.
Dial wondered if the other lab had felt the same way.
On this field trip, Dial and Eklund had not come alone. They had decided to bring three of the scientists from the institute — Drs Miles and Norling, as well as Hedman, the engineer — to help with the investigation. They hoped that Miles’s knowledge of microbiology and Norling’s knowledge of seemingly everything involved in the human process would help them better understand what the coroner had discovered.
Hedman had been chosen for three reasons. First, they genuinely liked the man and respected his opinions. Second, because of his engineering background he could give them an educated opinion from a different perspective than the others. And third, he was the only one they had met at the institute who spoke in terms they could understand. The rest of the group used jargon and concepts that Dial and Eklund had a hard time deciphering. But Hedman broke the explanations into comprehensible analogies, using common vocabulary that didn’t require a doctorate-level education to follow. He was their de facto translator.
‘I’m sorry to have kept you waiting,’ the coroner said as he appeared from the examination wing of the building. His English was flat and methodical, without inflection of any kind — as if he had learned the language from a robot. ‘I trust you found everything okay?’
‘I was here a few years ago,’ Eklund explained. ‘I knew where to find you.’
‘Very good. Many visitors — not that we have many visitors per se, mainly officers such as yourself — they get confused and wind up in our business offices, which are located in a separate building.’
‘Everyone, this is Björn Zander, the head of the Rättsmedicinalverket here in Stockholm.’ Eklund turned to introduce the makeshift investigatory team. Zander nodded around at them all.
‘Pleased to meet you. If you will follow me, I will show you what you have come to see.’ Without waiting for a response, he swiped his access card through a security reader, unlocking a hallway that led into the bowels of the facility.
After a short walk, they arrived at the laboratory that was handling the victims of the explosion. As Dial entered, he caught the unmistakable scent of processed air.
‘Is it supposed to smell like this?’ Hedman asked.
‘You smell something peculiar?’ Zander replied.
‘Actually, there’s no scent of any kind. That’s what’s peculiar.’
Dial knew what Hedman meant. Air typically smelled of something: floral oils that drifted in from the outside, chemical disinfectant, or one of a thousand other odors. Even scents that couldn’t be distinguished by the nose — such as human pheromones — were still perceptible. But not in this room. The air was different here. Not stale, but empty.
‘Please, forgive me,’ Zander insisted. ‘I am here so much that I think nothing of it. The scent — or lack thereof — is simply a by-product of the air purification system. Most systems rid the air of microbial agents, but in here we must take extra precautions. Our air is treated to remove microbes, spores and other airborne particulates. The treatment leaves the air virtually free from impurities. It can be unsettling at first, but I assure you that everything is fine.’
‘I wasn’t unsettled — just curious,’ Hedman assured him.
‘As you should be. After all, you are a man of science.’
‘So,’ Eklund said, trying to move things along, ‘your assistant told my assistant that you uncovered some startling results in the course of your examination? Something about the resiliency of the cells?’
‘Yes,’ Zander said as he led them to the far side of the room. He stopped in front of a gigantic microscope and began to explain his findings. ‘In ancient times, it was often reported that a body’s hair and fingernails would continue to grow after death, but this has long since been explained as the mere appearance of growth due to shriveling of the tissue in the scalp and fingertips.’
Dial braced himself for a roundabout explanation of things. He couldn’t imagine that any description that began with ‘in ancient times’ would get straight to the heart of the matter. He appreciated the coroner’s attempt to provide them with the necessary background information, but he wouldn’t have any problem cutting him off if he started to ramble.
‘That being said, we have discovered that certain biological functions do not stop immediately upon expiration. There are secondary functions that transpire as a result of the continuing existence of bacteria in the body or the eventual loss of muscle tension. These include the release of excrement and urine, as well as the digestion of any foods retained in the body at the time of death.’
Hanna, the matriarch of the group, leaned close to Hedman and expressed herself in rapid Swedish. Eklund overheard the comment and was forced to bite his tongue to keep from laughing.
‘What’d she say?’ Dial whispered.
Eklund whispered back. ‘She said if we were brought here to learn that people piss and shit themselves when they die, she could have saved us all the trip.’
Dial was forced to bite his tongue as well.
Zander stared at them like they were mischievous schoolboys.
‘Sorry,’ Eklund said to the coroner, ‘police stuff.’
‘Of course,’ Zander replied, shaking off the interruption. ‘There are also more direct continuations that occur after death. The brain, for instance, does not immediately stop functioning. When the circulatory system stops pumping blood, the brain enters a “panic mode” of sorts. Its cells struggle to find the oxygen that a person’s pulse used to deliver. Synapses fire uncontrollably as the brain launches into overdrive in a final effort to survive. Only after this ultimate flurry of activity does the brain eventually succumb to the lack of nutrients.’
‘Are you saying that people are still thinking after they die?’ Hedman asked.
‘No,’ Zander replied. ‘This activity is in no way indicative of consciousness, ability to reason, or even the capability of perceiving the events that are unfolding. Not to sound indifferent to human life, but these are little more than chemical reactions, a by-product of the body shutting down. They are significant only in regard to the timeline, meaning that they occur after the events that precipitate death.’
‘Thank God for that,’ Hedman said.
‘In the same manner, the central nervous system can often radiate impulses from the spinal column to the peripheral muscles. Twitching and spasms in the minutes after death are not uncommon. These do not mean that the individual is in some way still alive.’